With the Turks in Palestine eBook

neutral nation. I cannot go into particulars
about this arrangement, of course. Suffice it
to say that my sister was to travel as my wife and
that we both had to disguise ourselves so as to answer
the descriptions on the passports. When I went
to the American Consulate-General to get the permit,
I found the building crowded with people of all nations,—­Spanish
and Greek and Dutch and Swiss,—­all waiting
for the precious little papers that should take them
aboard the American cruiser, that haven of liberty
and safety. The Chester was to take all these
people to Alexandria, and those who had the means were
to be charged fifty cents a day for their food.
From behind my dark goggles I recognized many a person
in disguise like myself and seeking escape. We
never betrayed recognition for fear of the spies who
infested the place.

After securing my permit, I ran downstairs and straight
to “my” consul, whose dragoman I took
along with me to the seraya, or government
building. Of course, the dragoman was well tipped
and he helped me considerably in hastening the examination
I had to undergo at the hands of the Turkish officials.
All went well, and I hurried back to my sister triumphant.

The Chester was to sail in two days, but while we
were waiting, the alarming news came that the American
Consul had been advised that the British Government
refused to permit the landing of the refugees in Egypt
and that the departure of the Chester was indefinitely
postponed. With a sinking at my heart I rushed
up to the American Consulate for details and there
learned that the U.S.S. Des Moines was to sail
in a few hours for Rhodes with Italian and Greek refugees
and that I could go on her if I wished. In a
few minutes I had my permit changed for the trip on
the Des Moines and I hurried home to my sister.
We hastily got together the few belongings we were
to take with us, jumped into a carriage, and drove
to the harbor.

We had still another ordeal to go through. My
sister was taken into a private room and thoroughly
searched; so was I. Nobody could leave the country
with more than twenty-five dollars in cash on his person.
Our baggage was carefully overhauled. No papers
or books could be taken. My sister’s Bible
was looked upon with much suspicion since it contained
a map of ancient Canaan. I explained that this
was necessary for the orientation of our prayers and
that without it we could not tell in which direction
to turn our faces when praying! This seemed plausible
to the Moslem examiners and saved the Bible, the only
book we now possess as a souvenir from home.
Now our passports were examined again and several
questions were asked. My sister was brave and
self-possessed, cool and unconcerned in manner, and
at last the final signature was affixed and we jumped
into the little boat that was to take us out to the
ship.

At this moment a man approached, a dry-goods dealer
of whom my sister had made some purchases a few months
before. He seemed to recognize her and he asked
her in German if she were not Miss Aaronsohn.
I felt my blood leave my face, and, looking him straight
in the eye, I whispered, “If you say one word
more, you will be a dead man; so help me God!”
He must have felt that I meant exactly what I said,
for he walked off mumbling unintelligibly.